Zhao Ren and Han Bo stood quietly in the courtyard of Liang Wenqing's house, waiting.
The late morning air was calm, almost deceptively so. From where they stood, they could hear faint voices drifting out from inside the house—Liang Yue speaking to her father. She was explaining Zhao Ren's long-standing wish to study medicine, and the uncertainty of his current circumstances.
Zhao Ren leaned slightly toward Han Bo and spoke in a low voice, careful not to be overheard.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Do you think Liang Yue's father will accept me as his disciple?"
"Han Bo replied without a moment's hesitation, 'I've heard that he is a very benevolent man—someone who is always willing to help others. I believe things will work out for you.'"
Those words were enough.
A quiet smile appeared on Zhao Ren's lips—one filled with confidence and deep satisfaction.
Just then, the door opened.
Liang Wenqing stepped out into the courtyard, with Liang Yue beside him.
The moment Zhao Ren saw them, his expression changed instantly.
The confident smile vanished, replaced by something else entirely. His shoulders lowered slightly, his gaze softened, and his face took on the careful look of a man with nowhere else to turn—a man whose only remaining hope stood before him.
Liang Wenqing's steps slowed as his eyes fell on Zhao Ren.
He studied him closely.
Too closely.
Something about the young man's face unsettled him. The shape of his eyes, the calm steadiness beneath his composed exterior—it stirred a familiar memory.
Liang Wenqing turned to his daughter and said slowly, almost to himself,
"He looks very much like him."
Zhao Ren blinked.
"Me?" he whispered, pointing lightly at himself, genuinely startled.
Liang Yue said nothing. She neither agreed nor denied it. Her face remained calm, though her eyes flickered for just a moment before she looked away.
Inside his own mind, Zhao Ren scoffed.
I am the king of this realm, he thought. The most handsome man in the entire kingdom. How could my face resemble anyone else? Clearly, the old physician's eyesight must be failing.
Zhao Ren and Han Bo had been standing at a respectful distance. Noticing this, Liang Wenqing gestured for them to come closer.
They stepped forward as instructed.
Now standing only a few paces away, Liang Wenqing examined them from head to toe. Their clothes were clean, well-kept, and simple—but nothing about them suggested poverty or desperation.
After a moment, he spoke.
"My daughter tells me that one of you is in urgent need of work," he said, "and that he strongly wishes to become a physician. Which one is it?"
Zhao Ren stepped forward immediately.
"That would be me."
He bowed slightly and introduced himself using his assumed name.
"My name is Shen Ren," he said calmly. "And this is my cousin, Shen Bo."
Han Bo lowered his head respectfully, offering a proper greeting.
Liang Wenqing nodded once before asking,
"Why do you wish to become a physician?"
Zhao Ren answered without hesitation.
"My mother used to tell me stories about my grandfather," he said. "She said he was a remarkable physician—one who devoted his life to helping the poor. I wish to follow in his footsteps. I want to become a physician like him."
Liang Wenqing studied his face again, searching for falsehood—but found none.
After a brief pause, he said,
"Very well. You may start working here from tomorrow. I will take you on as my assistant."
For a moment, Zhao Ren almost forgot to breathe.
Then relief and excitement rushed in all at once.
"Thank you," he said quickly. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. However…"
He hesitated, then continued carefully,
"I don't have a place to stay. My home is in a distant village. When I worked at the herbal shop before, the owner was kind enough to let me stay there as well."
Liang Wenqing let out a long sigh.
"Very well," he said at last. "You may stay here. But you must help with other household tasks as well."
Zhao Ren bowed deeply.
"Yes, of course. Thank you. Thank you very much."
At that moment, Han Bo stepped forward.
"I also have nowhere to stay," he said earnestly. "I can do any kind of work."
Liang Wenqing frowned slightly.
"I cannot afford to pay so many people," he replied.
Han Bo shook his head at once.
"I don't need wages. I only ask for food and a place to sleep."
That gave Liang Wenqing pause.
He glanced at both of them again. No matter how he looked, they didn't appear to be men in dire financial straits.
Still, after a moment of thought, he said,
"Very well. My old assistant often gets beaten while trying to control the crowd of patients. At his age, that kind of treatment isn't good for him. From now on, managing the crowd will be your responsibility."
A short distance away, Liang Wenqing's long-time assistant had been standing quietly.
He had heard everything.
His expression darkened.
To him, Han Bo now looked less like a helper—and more like an enemy.
So you're trying to take my place? he thought coldly.
Fine. I'll show you what happens when you overstep.
The courtyard remained calm.
But something had already begun to shift beneath the surface.
Just then, Liang Wenqing called out for his assistant.
At once, Guo Sheng stepped forward, his steps quick and eager.
"There are many patients waiting outside," Guo Sheng reported promptly. "But I am managing the crowd well."
Liang Wenqing nodded, then said calmly,
"These two will be working here from now on. They will also be staying here. Show them where they can stay."
Guo Sheng lowered his head respectfully.
"As you wish."
But the moment he turned, his eyes shifted.
They slid—slowly, deliberately—toward Zhao Ren and Han Bo.
There was something in that look.
It was the look of a cat staring at mice it had already decided were trapped.
Zhao Ren had been smiling until then. But when his gaze met Guo Sheng's face, the smile faded. Something about the man's expression made him pause—a sharp, unsettling chill crawling up his spine.
Guo Sheng forced a smile and said,
"Come. I will show you your room."
The smile did not reach his eyes.
In fact, it looked almost frightening—stretched too tight, as though it might crack at any moment.
Zhao Ren and Han Bo exchanged a brief glance. Neither of them understood what had suddenly gone wrong.
Guo Sheng led them down a narrow passage and stopped in front of a small room.
"You may stay here for as long as you remain," he said flatly.
The room was sparse.
Bare walls. A small window. And only one bed.
Han Bo frowned.
"Are you saying both of us are to stay in this one room?"
Guo Sheng's face darkened instantly.
"What?" he snapped. "Do you expect separate rooms? Should I prepare royal beds for you as well?"
Han Bo's temper flared.
"Watch your mouth. Do you even know who—"
Before he could finish, Zhao Ren lifted a hand and stopped him.
"It's fine," Zhao Ren said quietly.
Guo Sheng let out a cold scoff, turned his face away, and walked off without another word.
As he left, his expression twisted—resentment, bitterness, and a sharp sense of threat flickering across his face like a shadow.
Once Guo Sheng was gone, Zhao Ren spoke in a low voice.
"Han Bo," he said, "I do not want anyone here to know who I am. We are only staying for a short while."
Han Bo nodded at once.
"From now on," Zhao Ren continued, "I am Shen Ren. You are my cousin, Shen Bo. We will stay in this room together."
Han Bo bowed his head.
"Understood. I will be careful."
After a brief pause, Zhao Ren added,
"I want to see where Liang Yue is—and what she is doing."
They stepped out together.
And then—
Zhao Ren stopped.
Across the courtyard, on the veranda, Liang Yue was seated quietly.
In front of her sat a young man.
She was carefully bandaging his hand, her movements gentle and precise. Her fingers brushed his skin with focused attention, her brows slightly furrowed.
The young man watched her with an open smile—warm, admiring, unmistakably affectionate.
He was handsome. Bright-eyed. His expression relaxed and confident.
Something twisted sharply inside Zhao Ren's chest.
His fingers curled unconsciously.
"What is this?" Zhao Ren murmured, his voice tight. "Who is that?"
Han Bo shook his head.
"I don't know."
Zhao Ren's gaze darkened.
"She said she is not a physician," he said. "Then why is she treating him?"
At that moment, the young man laughed softly and said to Liang Yue,
"Are you free tomorrow afternoon? Would you like to go to the market with me?"
The words struck Zhao Ren like a blade.
For a brief second, it felt as though the ground beneath his feet had shifted.
His first instinct was denial.
She will refuse, he thought. She must.
But Liang Yue smiled—light, unburdened—and answered simply,
"Yes."
The single word echoed far too loudly in Zhao Ren's ears.
He stood frozen.
The young man's smile widened, almost glowing with delight.
Zhao Ren stepped forward at once, positioning himself beside Liang Yue just as she finished tying the bandage.
The young man rose to his feet, bowed politely toward Zhao Ren with an easy smile, and then turned and left.
Zhao Ren looked at Liang Yue.
"You said you are not a physician," he said. "Who is he?"
Liang Yue answered brightly, without hesitation.
"He is truly a good man. His name is Su Yan.
Yesterday afternoon, while I was returning home after buying herbs, I passed the road near the old well. I suddenly noticed several men surrounding an elderly woman. She was trembling, clutching a small pouch tightly to her chest. The men stood too close, speaking harshly, and one of them kept pulling at her arm.
Just then, Su Yan stepped forward.
He did not raise his voice. He only said clearly, 'Let it go.'
The men shoved him and laughed, mocking him, asking if he thought he could interfere. Su Yan did not move. When one of them tried again to grab the pouch, Su Yan caught the man's wrist and twisted it sharply backward.
The man cried out in pain.
Another rushed at him, and Su Yan turned and drove a hard kick into his stomach, sending him stumbling back. When the third stepped forward, Su Yan picked up a piece of wood from the ground and struck him across the shoulder.
The street filled with cries of pain.
Within moments, their courage collapsed. The men began to run—stumbling over their own steps, glancing back as they fled.
That was when I saw the blood.
Su Yan's hand was badly injured. Blood was dripping from his fingers, dark against the ground. Even so, he turned first to the elderly woman, helped her steady herself, and placed the pouch back into her hands.
I rushed to him.
I cleaned his wound, applied medicine, and bandaged his hand. The injury looked serious to me, so I asked him to show it to my father.
Today he came and asked me to change the bandage. His hand is healing well."
Zhao Ren listened in silence.
But inside him, something burned.
So this was how they met.
If those thieves had never appeared…
If that moment had never happened…
Liang Yue would never have met Su Yan.
Just then, Liang Wenqing called out for his daughter from inside the house.
Liang Yue responded at once and went inside.
As she disappeared from view, Zhao Ren turned sharply toward Han Bo, fury blazing in his eyes.
"Find those robbers," he said coldly.
"I will have them executed."
The courtyard remained quiet.
But the storm inside Zhao Ren had already begun.